


The Scoop

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: First Time, Kink Meme, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Mild Power Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Stripping, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: After the Rose Garden moment, Nick's so used to hearing of his and David's great love in the papers that he almost believes it himself - assuming that when he makes a move on David, he'll duly accept, because that's what he's supposed to do. Only, David doesn't like the idea at all. Not one bit.





	The Scoop

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2010 to Livejournal.
> 
> Written for a combination of requests at the uk_lolitics anon kink!meme.

At 2.45pm, on May 12th, 2010, David Cameron and Nick Clegg had completed their first public statement together on the subject of their shared coalition. Matching lecterns in the garden - oh yes, the press had had a field-day - but it was _policy_ they were here to talk about and, my word, had they made this _work_ for themselves. For most of the conference, the journos were quiet, intent on listening to what they had to say. And Nick had backed David up for every last yard of the mile.  
  
They found their way - together - back into the house. Cameron, with the chants of the hacks in his lugholes and the pre-prepared witterings of Nick in the other, welcomed the deafening silence they were greeted with in the back room of No.10, a satisfying click as the door closed into place behind them. Still unaware of all the furniture in his new home, he spied a comfortable sofa in the south-west corner with his name on it, and he would gladly join his deputy in a well-earned rest. Now that they were officially alone, and they could honestly discuss the matter in peace, would every thing in the garden _still_ seem so rosy?  
  
"I think that went quite well," he rejoiced. "The press ate it up."  
  
"Only because you were so _wonderful_ , David," his coalition partner gushed, beaming from ear-to-ear. He stretched, sleepily, before sprawling back onto the cushions. His arms at full length, he wrapped the left around the shoulder of his leader, without question and without wonder. It was only as he commenced playing with Cameron's hair, looping the curls at the back of his neck around curious fingers - grazing at his neck with his digits, intimately, and in a way which made said hair stand on _end_ \- that the older man thought there to be anything _odd_ at all.  
  
"Why, erm... thankyou," the new Prime Minister stammered in his speech.  
  
"In fact," Nick whispered, in the back of his throat. "I'm as smitten with you as everybody else is..." And with that, he leaned ever closer; glassy-eyed and puckering his lips. He watched as David's sweet and elfin features suddenly turned into a scowl.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" he stumbled back, tripping on the edge of the carpet, immediately standing as not to _fall._  
  
"I'm _sorry_ \- I _thought_ we were reading from the same hymn sheet, here," Clegg hissed, lowering both the tone of his voice and the _tone_ of the conversation.  
  
David seethed. How dare he bring up the religious aspect here; as if our Lord could ever condone such an unholy union between two... two _married_ _men_. "My wife is upstairs... She's fucking pregnant, Nick... What were you even thinking?"  
  
"Haven't you read the papers?" he protested, adamant he wasn't at fault. "Even _they_ think we're gay!" Every paper from the Sun, the Guardian, and even the staunchly right-wing Telegraph and Mail, had them penned as star-crossed lovers. But it was only make-believe, he _had_ to see - stories from the greatest fiction factory of _all -_ and he'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker. He wanted it to be true for _himself_.  
  
"You _believe_ that crap?" the Tory was astounded to see a frown befall his friend's face, as if those stories could be any _more_ than fabricated tabloid trash.  
  
Rising from the couch also, Clegg walked to the centre of the rug and sighed, "I thought you liked me - _yes_." He headed for the exit, cradling his head with his hand, angrily gripping at his own hair. "And I'm not sure I can _cope_ with this rejection, David. If you _must_ know, I really _do_ fancy you - it isn't just what the papers say."  
  
Cameron's cheeks stung, the revelation tapping into something deep - with memories of being overweight and unloved as a young man, he wasn't sure he had it in him to turn Nick away. After all, he'd been so accommodating during the coalition talks. And he actually _fancied_ him? If _only_ they could slow all of this down... "Wait," he jumped. "Come back." It was a mirror to this afternoon's humorous incident when the press reminded him of his favourite joke being Nick Clegg. But, just as then, David knew that his partner wouldn't leave.  
  
He spun Nick around and, before he could speak, the Liberal was hunched into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily into the tender hollows - muttering something, liquid, inaudible, _in appreciation_ as he left David frozen and in a frenzied state of internal emotion. The flurry of kisses was now rapidly moving from the nape to the freshly-shaven jawline and, then, to the quivering lips - where he paused, and Cameron exhaled erratically.  
  
Clegg slipped him the tongue, quickly, craftily, and in-between hyperventilations. It sat there, fat and immobile within his partner's mouth, as it waited patiently for the wanted response. There was little room for manoeuvering if Cameron was never to reciprocate. David's own tongue slowly curled around the thick, pink muscle, in order to sample the delicacy that _was_ Nick Clegg - as if he was dining in a Michelin-star restaurant which had just presented him with a starter of snails and he hadn't wanted to offend the chef. And, as _expected_ , he nearly choked.  
  
He'd never kissed a member of the same sex before and Nick's long tongue was (devilishly sharp, he thought, as no other man had managed to talk him into bed in over ten years of education at public school) far thicker than any woman's. But the wrenching of his stomach had roused him from his temporary stupor. This was _reality_ , in the starkest sense of the word.  
  
The Democrat retracted with a slurped apology, his saliva glands working overtime to compensate for the fact his colleague's mouth had run drier than a desert. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he met with his flushed expression. Cameron's throat tightened as he continued to cough. A glass of iced-water from across the room was presented to him within seconds, and David could have sworn that Nick had barely moved at all. Perhaps everything was in _slow motion?_ Perhaps he needed time off work to recover from the outright shock of that kiss? To him, it'd been out of the blue - but it seemed he'd been the only person in the country not expecting it. The cup was held gently to his lips, dampening them, giving them life - and, with a single steady swallow, the rim was instantly replaced with Nick's lips - catching the dew drops, drinking in every part of his Conservative friend.  
  
"Let me try again..." he raised his head and appealed for another chance. By the mischievous glint in Nick's eye, it was easy to tell that this _wasn't_ where it would end. Though David, a positive cold fish in this exchange, remained rigid and with his arms by his sides.  
  
He didn't know what to do. Where did he even put his _hands?_ As an Etonian, David was considered to be familiar with all sorts of sexual and sordid skullduggery. But this couldn't have been further from the truth; those antics were for older pupils when he was at school, of which he wasn't invited to be a party. He was simply satisfied by sitting in his study with Gideon, sharing a spliff or two and getting off on drawing big hairy knobs on the toilet walls. A juvenile, _he_ was. _Nick_ was the kind of dirty, disobedient boy who had to have his grubby little fingers in everything. Cameron clenched his buttocks involuntarily as he reached the idea - partly due to the thought of those  _fingers_ gaining access to the one place he deemed as unchartered bodily territory - but, _secondly_ , from the jolt of desire that then _accompanied_ that idea, shooting from the hilt of his spine and causing him to shiver. He'd heard from fellow Tory MPs that _certain_ things were _terribly_ pleasurable.  
  
Nick solved the problem for him by digging his nails into his backside and dragging him forward several inches, David momentarily levitating as his feet weren't touching the ground. By now he could feel something definitive sticking out from the fly-area of his partner's pants, where before he thought he'd imagined it. This _genuinely_ surprised him. He, himself, was so scared that he couldn't feel a _thing_ from the neck down. And he _knew_ , just as he would if having a check-up at the clinic, or getting changed at the communal baths in front of people he didn't want to see him nude, that he'd be _painfully_ small at the moment. An experienced lover - a fine diner of the seducing kind, like Nick - wouldn't want a button mushroom turning up on his plate when he'd ordered shitake.  
  
This time when Clegg forced a French kiss, Cameron knew what to expect. He suppressed his instinct to gag and, instead, accepted the inevitable by allowing their tongues to move in a happy rhythm, side by side. Like the very _nature_ of the coalition itself. Rendered breathless through its entirety, he felt oddly turned on when a _gasp for air,_ under the suction of Nick's mouth, was mistaken for a groan of _need_ , and made the younger man's cock tangibly twitch against his own. And said spasm made David moan for _real,_ much to the surprise of his voice.  
  
"I want to fuck you," Nick tried to say neatly, though it came out as a strangled whine.  
  
_"You won't be impressed,"_ his conquest thought, with shame.  
  
In his haste, Clegg then reached down - desperately delving into the unbelted, black trousers - but was disappointed (if albeit slightly) to find a still small and flaccid appendage, dangling with a look of boredom between the Prime Ministerial arches.  
  
David blushed profusely. "I'm nervous," he said. Nick grinned, the slick perspiration of his palms providing ample lubrication as he eased the penis from inside the other man's boxers. Once Cameron had begun to relax and, the sheer level of fear had dropped, his dick actually needed _no_ coaxing. Within half a minute it had doubled in size, blood rushing to the head at such a speed, he could have surely fainted from the lack of it elsewhere. A sharp intake of breath showed how far, in terms of bravery, he had come in such a short space of time.  
  
"So then," the yellow-tied fiend flashed that wicked smile of his. "What the papers say about us... Is it _such_ a bad thing, David?"  
  
"I don't find men attractive... and I _didn't_ want to do this. I submitted because I felt unreasonable after all the allowances you had made for me and my party. But you won't change my mind, Nick."  
  
Cameron had thrown down the gauntlet and Clegg would stop at nothing to see him flounder and fail in this silly bout of obstinacy. Nick, though too smarmy for his own good, knew that he was a catch; from his chiselled facial features to a body which he worked out on nearly every other day. Turning to the corner of the room, as if there was any embarrassment to be spared at this stage, he speedily undressed. _"Let's see if he can resist me now?"_ he thought, smirking, baring his arched back and beyond as he bundled up his clothes in one ball and kicked them under the desk.  
  
David had backed up against the door and was still unzipped but his cock was starting to soften. His eyes traced a line from floor to ceiling; Clegg was unnervingly mesmerising.  
  
His pale skin was mildly toned but not ripped, and his six-pack of sorts was faded. But, for a man in his forties, he was devastatingly attractive. And, spinning around to face Mr. Cameron, there was only a sole thing left to be noticed; a stark bush of pubic fur, flecks of ginger therein, similar to the sunkissed highlights of his hair, and the manner in which it disguised the enormity of a rather large cock. He was... naked... and to a _very_ startling extent.  
  
"Disgusting," the Tory spat. "Put it away."

"Dirty talk," Nick smiled, tilting his head to such an angle that it accentuated the linear veins running down his neck. "I _like_ it, baby."  
  
"What if somebody were to see you? You can't even be _discreet_."  
  
"You're _right_ ," he replied, pressing their bodies together once more. David remained suited but Nick was sweating from the sheer _heat_ of the encounter, and his nakedness glistened within the chink of light which still came in from the side of the curtain, even after they'd been drawn shut. "But you wouldn't _want_ me to be anything else... That's what attracted you to me in the first place, _wasn't_ it? My _boldness_. My _arrogance_."  
  
David's eyes were pools of uncertainty, wide and afraid, as he realised that Clegg was _correct._ In an instant, Nick had detected an anomaly in his own genetics that not even _he,_ after three decades of sexual activity, had picked up on. He hadn't been swayed by the Lib Dems so much as he'd been swayed by the _man_ ; a very _sexy_ and self-assured man, and something which he'd never believe _himself_ to ever be. So maybe he could just have a piece of that confidence now and _take_ it, in his hands. His knees buckled from the pressure of the situation, but not to worry, _eh?_ His knight in shining armour was finally _here_ to save him from his tumble.  
  
Placing both open hands upon his deputy's chest, David Cameron glanced up towards his rescuer, his _hero_ (for, without _him_ , there wouldn't have been _any_ of this 'Prime Minister' business) and spoke a hushed warning: "Nobody, but nobody, must ever, _ever_ know, Nick...."


End file.
